To Be Named
by CaffeinatedMarshmallow
Summary: "A name is a sign of attachment; a sign that can add emotion to anything. Be it a person or anything really. It's selfish of me to hate giving anything a name. But I have to blame someone I loved for that."  Rated M for language and sexual themes/scenes
1. Night at the Pub

**WARNING! THIS FIC CONTAINS YAOI, BOY LOVE, GUY X GUY. IF THIS ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA, KINDLY AVOID THIS FANFICTION.**

**AU story, all characters are human instead of countries.**

**The main pair for this story is USUK, but this chapter DOES contain hinted France x England, Korea x Japan, and Prussia x Canada.**

* * *

><p>"<em>A name is a sign of attachment; a sign that can add emotion to anything. Be it a person or anything really. It's selfish of me to hate giving anything a name. But I have to blame someone I loved for that."<em>

_(-Mistake One-)_

I was married to my husband for about two years. Throughout that time, I could never have been happier. We were always together with everything we did. We bickered a lot though; many people assumed we'd have a divorce very soon after our wedding. It was usually me stressing about something ridiculous though, as he notified me of it and kept me sane. We'd met through a work collaboration of his photography studio and the magazine company I worked at. Afterwards, we kept in close contact, and it turned into a classic love story. My story never had its happy ending though, seeing as my love, was gone forever…

Every time I leave work in the evening, I pass by the old photography studio he had owned. I stop and look in the window, somehow hoping he'll pass through the doors again, greeting me with a chaste kiss and a remark about me being early. But just like every day for the past four months, no one came out to kiss me. No one came out to walk home with me. No one came out at all. The studio was empty, and so was just about everything in my life.

"Arthur?" a small voice spoke next to me. I flinched at the innocent call of my name, and slowly turned my head to see the man standing next to me.

"Kiku…! Sorry I was just—"

"There's no need to apologize. I understand how it must feel." A small smile crept up his lips as he turned to me, having to look up a bit, due to our height differences. His short black hair had a cute pin of some sort to keep his bangs out of his face. "You still miss him, don't you?"

"Every day, I wonder if our time together, was worth the pain I felt when he left…" I sighed, playing a pathetic smile with my words.

"It's alright…" He grabbed my shoulder. "You know, Yong Soo, Yao, and I were going to get a drink tonight. Would you like to join us?"

"You ask me every week, and my answer is always no… You know I'm horrible when I'm drunk."

"Then we'll just make you avoid the scotch, ne?"

I chuckled a bit at the ending of his sentence. Kiku Honda was a co-worker at the magazine company I worked at. The two of us were partners on nearly every project we were given, and had known each other since high school. He had come to England when he was about twelve. Being Japanese, he came from the Tokyo area of Japan, and, despite the years, his accent still stuck to him every once in a while.

I rolled my eyes: "Fine, fine. But if I get drunk, I'm blaming you!" I snapped jokingly.

"Hai, hai! Well, we'll be at the usual pub, about eight?" he said, more so ordering me rather than asking.

"Yes sir!" I said sarcastically, along with a playful salute. He giggled softly, and left down the sidewalk for his apartment. As I watched him walk down the street, I realized just how late it was. The sun was already starting to set, and if I wanted to get out of my work clothes, I'd have to hurry. Right before turning to head for my flat, I look at the studio one last time.

"Goodbye, Francis…"

* * *

><p>"I still don't think this is a good idea, Kiku," I said scornfully.<p>

"If you end up getting drunk, then you're my responsibility," he replied. The Korean man behind him scowled a bit and hugged Kiku by his shoulders.

"You know that sounds wrong when you think about it," Yong Soo, said jokingly, earning a bright red blush from the smaller man. Yong Soo had no real background that anyone knew about. He and his brother moved from the Koreas when they were very little, and were from an orphanage near Manchester. He says he can't remember the story much himself, but his brother says it's a story Yong Soo shouldn't bother to remember. One thing was for sure; Yong Soo was very cheery and always had a fun time. He was actually the youngest one at our magazine company. He was still attending school when he entered the company for an internship at age 13, and two years later he decided against going to college, and to stay at the magazine company.

Kiku's brother, Yao, simply rolled his eyes at them both. He grabbed my arm, and directed to the front door. "Aiyaa… If we don't get going, Yong Soo is going to sit there harassing him as he pleases." Yao's accent was a very thick Chinese one. If Kiku hadn't explained the fact they grew up in separate countries as half brothers, I'd assume he was lying about them being related at all. Along with the fact they argue. Constantly. Yao said it was some grudge they seemed to hold due to their ethnicities, but truthfully, Kiku was too much of a smartass for Yao to handle. His ebony ponytail swayed as he walked, showing a lot of grace in him. I was friends with Yao, but the two of us just never got very close. Kiku and Yong Soo had both noticed it before, but Yao never said anything. Although, being the oldest out of us, he's extremely clueless, but also likely the smartest.

"Sounds good to me," I said. I smirked and turned to the blushing Japanese man and the cheery Korean for a moment. "Yong Soo, how I do hate to ruin this moment, but how long do you plan on molesting Kiku in the parking lot before we can have a drink?"

Yong Soo jumped back from Kiku, giving me a glare that sent shivers down my spine. Kiku simply blushed more, along with an exclamation I failed to understand.

"Arthur, you're a genius sometimes, you know that?" Yao laughed. I bowed a bit in response.

"Oh, I do try."

"I'll get you back for this," Yong Soo hissed at me while walking towards the door. Yao and I rolled our eyes. There was a rumor around the magazine company that we worked at, between Yong Soo and Kiku; of course, mindless romance gossip. Mainly accusations of Yong Soo flirting all the time, that, sadly, I agreed with. Kiku; completely clueless.

_"Ni hao!"_ Yao chimed as he swung open the doors. Very few people were there, since the sun still had some time to set. The only ones there were the bartender and a few people sitting in the back to grab at the boom-box firsthand. All of us walked to our usual seats at the bar. Usual order, Yong Soo and Kiku sat next to each other, I sat in-between Kiku and Yao, and the bar tender stood in front of us to take orders.

"Well Arthur, don't see you around here much anymore. How have you been holding up?" the man behind the bar asked me. Mr. Boughs was a pretty aged man. He'd been running the pub since before I was even born. He had soft gray hair with a bushed beard as well. When I was younger, I'd think he looked more like Santa Clause since he's had the same complexion for a long time. It took me a second to understand what he had meant, but I immediately avoided eye contact with anyone.

"Fine; it's been a bloody rough few months though," I said as plainly as I could. Mr. Boughs understood exactly what I was aiming to avoid, and passed around the usual orders for all of us. Kiku grabbed my shoulder again and gave me a soft smile. I smiled back weakly, and immediately went for the one thing to get my mind off of it. Ale, of course. I took a small taste, getting my old bearings back; having been months since I had any alcohol. I looked at Kiku for a moment, making sure he was keeping his eye on me. If I got out of hand, I'd be too drunk to know what I was doing.

I finally mustered up enough will to take a swig. The burning sensation ran down my throat, and soaked my tongue with the taste of alcohol. Four long months since I'd had a drink of any kind. I remembered how drunk I'd gotten last time. When that stupid day had happened, I bought a bottle of scotch, not bothering to use a shot glass. I just drank the whole thing straight. It earned me a week off of work, and of course less pay. I sighed in relief, finally having the buzzing feeling back in my head.

"Two drinks is your limit, okay?" Kiku ordered. I nodded, hoping that two wouldn't be too much. I took another swig, followed by another sigh.

"Thanks," I said. "I needed this."

"It's our pleasure," Yao responded cheerfully. "You need a break Arthur! You work yourself to death and never take any time off!"

"I'm supporting myself and no one else; of course I'm spending my time with all that bloody work."

Yong Soo leaned over the bar a bit to see me past Kiku. The stubborn curl of hair on the side of his head seemed to be looking at me as well.

"Why don't you ask for a paid vacation? Kiku and I could work on that magazine project for this month. You two always work together anyways." Kiku flinched a bit when Yong Soo brought up them working together on a project, likely predicting the horror he would have to face.

"Yong Soo, don't decide things on your own. Working together on projects is practically a tradition for us," he snapped. Oh Honda, he never gave up.

I took another swig of my drink while Yao started teasing Kiku about something. As soon as I set down my glass, I felt myself go stiff. Someone was staring at me, I could tell. I looked over my shoulder a bit to see if I was imagining things or what. I was right; a young blonde man sitting at a table in the back was looking at me. He had sunny blonde hair with a cowlick at his hairline. His hair looked a bit feminine to me before I realized how short it was in the back. He was staring, almost glaring, at me over his glasses. My eyes met his for less than a second before his sight darted away from me and he shrunk into the large brown jacket he was wearing. I shrugged it off and turned back to the conversation at hand.

"—if he took a vacation then we'd be partners on a project for once though!" Yong Soo whined.

"Will you quit with me taking a vacation already?" I hissed. "It's not going to happen."

"Welcome back," Yao said jokingly. "So who's the guy staring at you?"

"You noticed?" I asked, completely baffled. I should have realized by now just how good Yao was at noticing very particular things. "I don't know. Some bloke who feels like starting a fight? I'm just going to ignore him." That 'being watched' feeling was back.

Yao rolled his eyes and chuckled. "He may be drunk. Don't act so mean."

"I'll act mean if I feel like it. I'm not going to act nice for some drunk's sake."

That earned a huge laugh from Yao now. Kiku and Yong Soo came back from their own little conversation, obviously confused.

I scowled. "Please, don't bloody ask…"

* * *

><p>After a few more drinks between all of us, I was still only on my second. Quite a few hours had gone by, and a ton more people came into the place. Loud music played in the background and cigarette smoke filled the whole pub. After all that time, I managed to avoid getting drunk.<p>

"We should be heading home," Yao said. "Kiku and I have an early start tomorrow."

"Yao forgot to go shopping at the market this morning," Kiku added.

"Gah—Don't just but in like that!"

"Well it's true. Now I get why mum is curious about me living with my 'big brother'."

Yao scoffed before slamming a tip on the bar top. "Let's go before we start yelling, Kiku."

"Alright." Kiku's expression was pretty blank, but he was obviously worked up to start bickering with his brother right on the spot. Yong Soo chuckled lightly.

"Try not to kill each other on the way home," he said. With that, the two brothers waved goodbye and left. Yong Soo and I sat talking for a few minutes, before he got a text from his brother to come home. "He's like a drill sergeant I swear… I'll see you tomorrow Arthur."

"Yeah, see you," I mumbled to Yong Soo. He gave me a soft smile and left me by myself. I sipped my second ale quietly, despite the rambunctious noise all around me. I looked over my shoulder out of curiosity. It had been almost three hours, so of course he wouldn't be there anymore. Nevertheless, the blonde was still there. Three empty glasses were in front of him, and two other people were at the table with him. I turned back to take another sip of my ale. Again getting curious, I looked over my shoulder yet again, screaming at the fact the damn bloke was right behind me!

"Bloody hell! What do you want?" I snapped. He smiled at me softly, and grabbed my arm a bit.

"Wanna play a game of cards? Your friends all left." I couldn't quite place his accent, but it wasn't English.

"…Cards? Do I even know you? You were staring at me for hours so I'm hoping so…"

"Sorry about that." He held out his hand for me to shake. I grabbed it hesitantly. "My name's—."

"Shit-!" A rough yell from Mr. Boughs and a crashing of glasses muted the last of his sentence. Both of us turned to the source of the crash, simply to see a couple of bottles knocked over behind the counter.

"Sorry I didn't catch that—."

"Wanna play a game of cards or what? I'll buy you a shot if you want." He hadn't heard me…

"Sh-shot? No, please. I don't even know you. Plus, I'm horrible when I'm drunk," I tried to protest, but earned a laugh from him.

"If you're worse than my brother's hockey buddy, then I'll buy you five shots for the hell of it. Anyone that is more violent than him with a bit of liquor earns my respect."

"Where are you from?" I asked, completely of topic.

"Huh?" He raised a brow.

"Sorry, but where are you from? I'm trying to place your accent, and it's driving me nuts."

"I'm not from England if that's what you're thinking," he said. "My brother and I are from North America. We moved to England pretty recently."

"That explains it… I was born and raised here, so normally I can point out any place's accent when I hear it."

"You have nothing else to do with yourself? No wonder you're hanging out with co-workers instead of a girl!" he laughed. I scowled a bit. He meant it jokingly, I could tell, but it still irked me. I took a last swig of my ale, and set down the glass.

"You said something about cards, right?" I tried to seem excited, when truthfully, I had no clue how to play poker or anything. All I could play was 'Go-Fish' and 'Rummy'. "What are you playing anyways?"

"Black Jack. It's Gilbert's favorite game. Come on, I'll introduce you." He grabbed my arm and led me towards the table he'd been sitting at. The spare seat next to him had my name written all over it.

"Matthew! Gilbert beat you yet?" he called at his table. I looked at the two others at the table, a bit too shy to say anything. The other blonde looked up, his complexion almost exactly like his apparent brother's.

"We just started, eh," he said. I barely saw any difference between the two of them. The one, apparently Matthew, had a bit more orange-blonde at the tips of his hair, and it curled a bit at the bottom. He also had a curl that came down in front of his face, which fell right back where it was when he'd blew it to the side. At a glance though, they looked like copies of each other.

"Why don't you sit down idiot?" hissed the man sitting next to Matthew. "Then we can start an actual game." I guessed that he was Gilbert. He had a thick German accent and was obviously a bad drunk. Five empty glasses sat in front of him, and one half empty one near his right hand. The strange thing about him though, he was albino: pale skin, white hair, and red eyes.

I looked at the man who'd dragged me over here. What was his name anyways? I thought if I listened closely, I'd hear it at some point. I was too embarrassed to admit that I didn't hear him the first time. I realized I hadn't introduced myself either. Being offered the empty chair, I sat down, also next to Gilbert.

"Yo," he said. He held out a hand to me. "Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"A-Arthur Kirkland." After shaking yet another hand, I shot my sight to the blonde, hoping he'd heard me say my name. I could tell he wasn't listening though, seeing as he'd pulled out a cell phone and was texting at the moment. I looked to Matthew, wondering if he was about as ignorant as his brother, but found him smiling shyly, offering his hand to me.

"I'm Matthew Williams, nice to meet your Arthur." His voice was extremely soft, and his gestures we're shy. Definitely not like his brother. I shook his hand, smiling back a bit.

"So, Black Jack, right?" I looked over to the blonde next to me, who just began putting his phone away. I sighed a little.

"Ja. Dummkopf over here still needs to learn how to play, so hopefully you can listen through this for a second." Gilbert was referring to the blonde next to me. I bit my lip a bit, seeing as they had nicknames for each other.

"Will you quit with your German. This is England, they speak English," the blonde hissed at Gilbert. Recognizing the excuse, I guessed he only spoke English.

"Oh, my apologies. I called you an idiot."

"Fuck you."

Matthew chuckled weakly at them both. "Can we just explain the rules and start playing?"

"Ja, ja! You're keeping Birdie waiting Dummkopf!" Gilbert bellowed. I was right, he was crazy drunk. Throwing an arm over Matthew's shoulder he started saying something in German. Matthew rolled his eyes a bit and spoke back to him in German as well.

"How do you know German?" I asked.

"I picked up a little bit from Gilbert. I'm still learning. I'm fluent in French and English though…"

I looked back at the blonde next to me who was sipping his ale a bit. How the hell were they related?

"Gil, explain the rules damn it," he hissed.

Gilbert started to explain the rules to Black Jack for the blonde, and secretly taught me as well. I pretended to not be listening so I wouldn't seem too useless. I kept listening closely to try and learn his name, but all the names Gilbert had were either insults in German, or English. I could tell they didn't like each other already. It seemed Matthew was the only reason they were in the same room together. After learning how to play a card game I'd never even tried at, the deck was dealt and we started. The blonde waved over to Mr. Boughs after a few plays, and along with him came a tray of shots.

"Thanks Mr. Boughs," he said with a full smile on his face. "Now let's spice things up a bit. Whoever gets out first for each game has to take a shot. Let's see who gets drunk first, alright?" I saw him give me a sly wink. Biting the inside of my cheek, I immediately knew what he was referring to.

"Kesese~, sounds like fun to me!" Gilbert cheered. Matthew had a shy expression on his face still.

I rubbed my forehead a bit and muttered to myself: "What have I gotten into…?"

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><p>Veh Hiii~! Nada here, and thank you so much for reading my fanfic "To Be Named"! I hope chapter 1 wasn't too weird... I'm not very proud of the outcome myself... But I hope to continue improving with this story! It will likely be long, and the chapters will become longer as I go along and have more time to write. Well, until next time~!<p> 


	2. Explaination

**WARNING! THIS FIC CONTAINS YAOI, BOY LOVE, GUY X GUY. IF THIS ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA, KINDLY AVOID THIS FANFICTION.**

**AU story, all characters are human instead of countries.**

**The main pair for this story is USUK, but this chapter DOES contain hinted France x England and Prussia x Canada.**

**Mildly hinted yandere!America. (Non-graphic.)**

* * *

><p>"<em>A name is a sign of attachment; a sign that can add emotion to anything. Be it a person or anything really. It's selfish of me to hate giving anything a name. But I have to blame someone I loved for that."<em>

_(-Mistake Two-)_

"A shot for you sir," said the blonde, smiling brightly and drunkenly. I took the shot glass from his hand, scowling at it for a moment.

"This game is cheap," I growled. Finally mustering the strength, I drank down the shot, further causing my throat to turn raw from liquor. Gilbert shook my shoulder a bit while chuckling.

"Can't handle your alcohol?"

"I can… I just haven't drunk in four months." I rubbed my eyes to get my blurry vision fixed. My attempt failed, continuing the cycle of our game. Somehow Black Jack turned into Poker, and I sure wasn't getting anywhere. Instead of betting cash, we bet shots. Matthew had drunk himself asleep onto Gilbert's shoulder, obviously having little experience in the game; and of course, little resistance to English alcohol.

"C'mon! You're gonna lose if you don't get a good hand!" the blonde exclaimed. My ears rang from his voice. He'd had about the same number of shots as me, and he was still functioning perfectly. Gilbert turned into our dealer since he was at his limit for drinks. Rather than turning crazy like I would after that much alcohol, he was drowsy and calm. I was a bit envious of him. Trying to remember which way was up, I managed to grab my cards and mess with my hand a bit. Setting down two shots in front of me, I placed my bet. The blonde shoved four shots out in front of him, giving me a sly smirk. I gritted my teeth and set down my hand. I thought it was a pretty good one and that I was sure to win, but he continued smirking. Finally, he dropped his cards.

"Four aces. Drink up, buddy."

My jaw practically dropped. I gave Gilbert a look, wondering if they had this rigged. If a man that drunk could actually set up a card deck, he'd have to be the god of alcohol himself. I slowly took my four shots, coughing out my lungs between them. I couldn't feel my throat, see straight, or even look at another hand of cards.

"I can't handle anymore," I managed to growl.

"I'm wondering how you're still awake man!" chimed the blonde. I felt my phone vibrate in my trouser pocket. I fumbled around with the damned device, trying to view the text I'd just received.

_ From Kiku 12:25 A.M. ._

_-No subj.-_

_ Message:_

_ Arthur, have you headed home yet? I haven't seen you pass my flat to yours yet. Please make sure you don't stay too long._

Rubbing my eyes to see the text more clearly, I closed the phone, not even bothering to reply. The blonde was staring at me like he was in a daze, propping his head against his arm.

"What the bloody hell are you staring at me for?" I growled.

"You're kind of cute. You're face is all red from drinking so much."

I blushed a bit. He thought I was… cute? I just met the guy, didn't know his name, managed to get dead drunk over a game of cards with him, and get flirted with by him all in one night. What the hell kind of grudge does fate have with me? I scoffed and looked away from him. Gilbert was still being used as a pillow by the sleeping Matthew.

"Hey, I'm going to let Birdie crash at my place since it's closer than yours. We have hockey practice tomorrow anyways," Gilbert said. He shook Matthew by his shoulder, managing to wake him up a little. The half asleep young man leaned on his friend's shoulder as the two waved goodbye from the pub. The blonde smiled a bit when they'd finally left.

"I really hate that guy," he mumbled.

"Why do you hang out with him then?" I tried to keep with a conversation and attempted avoiding any awkward atmosphere.

"My bro has a bit of a thing for him if you ask me. I just stick around to make sure he keeps his distance." He turned to me a bit. "Why? Two guys hanging on each other weird you out?" He raised a brow and smirked. This guy just loved messing with people.

"I used to have a husband. Of course I don't," I sneered.

"Used to..? What happened with that?"

"…I'd rather not talk about it." I sank into my chair a bit. He frowned, then smiled, then grabbed my shoulder a bit for reassurance.

"Why don't I walk you home? It's late, and you drank more shots than I did."

I furrowed my brow a bit, trying to find a way to ask him the question I'd been pondering. Thanks to the alcohol, I had the 'no-mindedness' I needed to avoid stuttering, blushing, or getting too embarrassed to say it out loud. "Are you flirting with me?" There were a few seconds of silence. He blinked a few times before answering me.

"Maybe," he said. My cheeks turned a bit pinker than they already were. He must have noticed, because I received another chuckle and smirk from him. "Let me walk you home. I don't need the cops finding you dead in the alley tomorrow morning."

"Whatever… But it's for my sake, so don't think you talked me into it or something."

"Like I said, you're cute," he muttered. I rolled my eyes and tried to not blush again. I walked to the bar as straight as I could through the crowd of people. I set down much more than I had planned on spending five hours ago. Mr. Boughs looked at me a bit worried.

"You sure you can get home alright?" he asked.

"Blondie here says he's walking me home apparently," I mumbled. Mr. Boughs chuckled a bit.

"He's American."

"What..?"

"That's why his accent is weird. He's from the U.S."

"Oh… I guess that explains why he only knows English. What about his brother, Matthew-?" I tried to stop my question rather than asking Mr. Boughs about a guy from the bar who he likely didn't know very well. To my surprise, he responded with a cheery voice and a knowledgeable answer.

"They didn't grow up together. Divorce. The older brother is from Canada. I'm actually good friends with their father." Mr. Boughs gave me a soft smile. "Good luck getting home. Stop in again sometime."

"I'll try… See you later." I headed for the door. The blonde was waiting there for me, and for some reason he was holding his brown jacket in his arm. All he had was a white t-shirt reading '_I Love NY'_. I studied him momentarily, questioning why his jacket was in his arm, but I found myself almost staring at him. I expected him to be a bit chubby, a typical American stereotype, but instead he was pretty toned, and the shirt hugged to him in all the places that made it obvious. Before I started gawking at him, I finally stuttered: "W-why did you take off your jacket? It's freezing outside."

"So I could do this," he replied. He opened up the door for me, insisting I went out before him. I had gotten the realization that since I'd not planned on staying so late, so I'd left my jacket at home. I immediately hugged my arms and began shivering like crazy. "Allow me." He chuckled a bit and set the jacket on my shoulders; definitely flirting with me. I hugged the jacket, which was huge on me, and managed to get my arms into the sleeves. When I hugged it close, I could smell old leather and tobacco.

'_He must be a smoker,'_ I thought to myself.

"Aren't you going to freeze like that?" I asked. He shook his head.

"I'll be fine. I'm supposed to be everyone's hero, so I put others first of course." He smiled brightly at me and grabbed my arm for us to head down the street. At that point I had very little balance, so I was grateful he did. I slipped a bit, not managing to get my skill of walking back yet. He held me tight and caught me before I could fall to the pavement.

"Th-thank you…" I managed to mutter.

"Be more careful, dude. What street is your place at anyways?"

"I live near the library. Just head that way and I'll see it."

"Alright. Just hold on. I'm the reason you're drunk, so it's my responsibility to get you home." I immediately recognized that sentence. I raised a brow and attempted to not give him a menacing look.

"We're you… eavesdropping?"

"Huh? I was listening to my iPod until Matthew got there. Though I'll admit…" He shot his gaze away from me, hoping to not have his expression seen. "I was staring at you a bit though…" Despite his efforts, I saw his own face light up a bit.

"…Now I'm not the only one with the red face." He rolled his eyes. I was still confused though; his sentence sounded exactly like Kiku's, but I was sure they had never met. I held his arm as he'd told me to, and still had a bit of trouble to keep my balance. After a few blocks of us walking, finally the silence was broken.

"You said you had a husband, right?" he asked. I flinched a bit. Of all the things he remembered hearing…

"I did," I muttered. With this subject, I decided to keep my sentences short. "Not anymore though."

"You still wear your ring. Why's that?"

I was silent. I didn't want to talk about it. Hoping he'd understand, I just kept my mouth shut. He obviously didn't get the message.

"You fall asleep? I didn't hear an answer."

"Shut up." He did so right away. I felt a bit guilty to have snapped, but I honestly wanted him to just stop asking. I felt his strength get weaker for a second, probably startled.

"I-I'm sorry…" he mumbled. I almost enjoyed seeing him make a face that wasn't smiling. I shook my head a bit to get the sadistic thought out of my head. I tried to blink, but my eyes wouldn't open again when I did.

"H-hold on… I can't see…" I pulled at his arm a bit. He stopped with me, holding my shoulder to help my balance "Damn it all." I fell onto my knees as my head started spinning. My vision started getting extremely blurry. I couldn't see which street I was at, or the houses along the sidewalk either. Next thing I knew I started coughing as if I was being choked. My stomach had a fiery feeling in it. I felt extremely nauseas but was blessed to not go any further.

"Are you alright?" I the blond yelled at me, shaking my shoulders to see if I'd respond. I looked up at him slowly, trying to see his face straight.

Sometimes, we do stupid things. I was trying to get my old self back by drinking myself mad and hanging around strangers. Out of all the stupid things I could have done, this was the worst. The blonde man, definitely a few years younger than me, his innocent blue eyes looked at me through his brown glasses. The urge surged through me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I cupped his cheeks gently, and did the thing I would regret most. I kissed him. I placed my lips on lips of a man I didn't even know the name of. My brain regained all consciousness as soon as I did so. I prayed for him to shove me off of him; but instead, he decided to kiss me back.

"N-no, wait!" I yelped and ended up stumbling backwards. I hugged my knees to my chest and started shaking. "What am I doing? I'm sorry…!" The guilt finally washed over me. Not just for myself, but for him. I had likely embarrassed the hell out of him. I looked at him, trying to not break down crying. I was like a child that hadn't been scolded, but knew it was going to happen. I felt like I could gratefully die right then and there.

"…He was the guy who got in that huge car crash a few months back, wasn't he?" he asked me. My eyes immediately widened. "Your husband?"

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><p>Four months earlier, when coming back from a photo shoot in Northern Ireland, Francis, was calling me in his car to tell me he was just twenty minutes away from arriving home. After a few months of being by myself, I threw everything aside and ran home. My boss let me off early since I'd finished all my work up. I quickly arrived at the flat and sat at the couch waiting for him to arrive home. A half hour went by, and I started to get worried.<p>

"It must be traffic, that's all," I said to myself. Another half hour passed by. I called his cell phone to see where he was, but it went straight to the voicemail. Leaving him a message, I decided to make some dinner for him if he was going to be so late. I headed for the kitchen, and turned on the sink to wash off my hands. Then, the phone rang. It was the London police. I was a bit wary to pick up the receiver, having already read the caller ID. But I couldn't just ignore a call from the police. I'd be in big trouble…

"H-hello?" I said into the receiver.

"Is this Arthur Bonnefoy?" asked the voice over the phone.

"Yes, this is him," I responded, keeping my sentences short.

"We have some… unfortunate news for you."

At that moment, every limb in my body froze. I didn't dare move an inch. The man over the phone was none other than the chief, who I had a bad personal history with. Gary Thompson and my father were not very close friends, and because of that, he didn't like me automatically. I started trembling a bit, wary that he was going to accuse me of something for the hell of it. Or even find some sort of driving ticket to piss me off with that was months old anyways. I stuttered out as kind of a response as I could, and proceeded with the conversation smoothly.

"I-is that so? I'm sorry for any inconvenience—"

"Arthur… Francis has been killed in a car crash downtown."

"…What?"

"I'm sorry…" he muttered. I could hear the remorse in his voice as well as my own.

"I-I…" muttering, I couldn't finish the sentence.

Everything froze around me. I dropped the phone on the kitchen floor as I fell to my knees. Dead. I'd been shaking my head, thinking it was traffic for over an hour, but Francis was dead. A few moments went by of me staring at the cabinet in front of me. I knew I couldn't sit around by myself like this. My friend Kiku was the only one I wanted to see at that moment. I quickly stood up and grabbed the phone, apologizing to the officer and thanking him for his time. I ran for the front door, grabbing my coat, shoes, and key. My pulse started throbbing like crazy. I felt as if my chest would burst if it didn't stop.

Running the block and a half to Kiku's flat, I bolted up the stairs as fast as I could. I tripped about three times, luckily catching myself so I wasn't hurt. When I reached the third floor hallway, I ran to apartment number thirty-three, and immediately began knocking on the door. When I heard the locks click, I finally calmed myself enough to stand there panting.

"Arthur?" Kiku said questionably after opening the door "It's not like you to come by without calling."

"Is Yao home?" I asked, still keeping myself as calm as I could.

"No, he's at Yong Soo's house, why?"

"Is it alright if I come in?" I managed to avoid breaking down at the front door. Kiku nodded and led me to the living room, offering me to sit at the couch.

"I was just getting ready to make a bit of dinner. Have you eaten yet?"

"No. I was going to make dinner, but I decided against it."

"Ah…" He looked at me, raising a brow. "I thought that Francis was coming back from his photo shoot today? Did he get delayed?"

I couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears started streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably, but I still couldn't bring myself to sob. I buried my face in my hands and propped my head up with my elbows.

"Arthur!" Kiku yelped. He ran over from the kitchen and grabbed my shoulders. "Arthur, what's wrong! Look at me!" I lifted my head slowly and managed a weak smile.

"There was a bad car crash downtown," I said, starting to choke up a bit. "He's not coming home." Kiku's eyes widened.

"No… He's not…"

"I got a call from the police before I ran here. He's gone…"

I'd finally broken down. Kiku hugged me closely, lending me a shoulder to cry on. I had felt like I was burdening Kiku since I'd run over out of the blue; but I wanted to feel selfish right now, even if I was being extremely needy. I needed that satisfaction that a child wants when something doesn't go right for them.

When I'd calmed down, Kiku curled up on the couch next to me, hugging his knees to his chest. "Arthur, I'm sorry." The line everyone says when their friend has lost someone. It wasn't something I expected from Kiku, since he always seemed a bit indifferent to what others say. He practically read my mind. "I know I don't normally talk how others do, but he was a close friend to me as well. We both lost him..."

I smiled weakly. "Yeah… I'm sorry for barging in on you like this. You must have been busy with something."

He shook his head. "Actually, I have the house to myself tonight. You can stay over if you want. I'll make us some dinner." I could tell that Kiku had decided for me that I was staying over. I didn't want to be alone anyways, so I was grateful.

The two of us ate a Japanese style dinner he'd made, and stayed up late talking. It felt like one of our high school sleepovers all over again, besides the fact we had a bit of alcohol. We ended up falling asleep on his couch somewhere around three in the morning. Waking up late next morning, we continued to just eat meals and waste the day away. A received a few calls on my cell phone, mainly from family members and close friends paying their respects. Though I felt like I should be depressed, I wasn't. I managed to only cry the night before. Kiku kept an eye on me though, making sure I wasn't acting down when he was out of the room.

About a month later was the funeral. I'd changed my last name back to my family name, Kirkland, not long before it. Family and friends of Francis and I all came. I expected it to be depressing, dreary, and unmemorable; but it wasn't. There was music and people smiled. Even if they were crying, they were smiling. It was as if he wasn't actually dead. I guess that's the effect he had on people… But it took its toll on me that night. I went for the only form of consolation I could find; alcohol. A whole bottle of scotch to drink in one night. No shot glass, just the bottle, and a drunken, widowed English man in his room.

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><p>"How did you…?" I went to ask. I couldn't even finish my sentence before he yanked me to my feet. "Ow! W-watch it! That hurts!"<p>

"Sorry, I don't know my own strength sometimes." He looked at me with the blankest expression I'd seen him make all night. "It was in the papers. They said his husband was widowed, I'm guessing that's you. It fits together, am I right?"

"What gives you any right to know about me?" I snapped.

"Well I'm walking you home, that count?" He blinked a few times, but his blank stare continued to glare at me. A chill went down my spine as I yanked my arm away from him.

"You're a pain in the arse, did you know that?"

"You're mean when you're drunk~!" he laughed. I continued scowling at him. I started walking again, quickening my pace to get far ahead of him. It worked against me though. He had longer legs, and was less drunk than I was. It was useless trying to outrun him. Not to mention, my balance was still horrible. Tripping over my own feet, I was yet again caught by him before my face met the pavement. "Honestly, do you walk much?"

"Shut up," I growled. "I can get home. My house is just a few blocks from here." I yanked my arm away from him and started walking again. He grabbed my shoulder sharply and yanked me towards him. "Ouch! Let go of me you twat!"

"I'm taking you to my place," he hissed. "I'm sick of seeing you fall on your face and get mad at me for catching you. Stay at my place for the night. I'll take you home when you're sober, or at least hungover."

There wasn't any getting out of it. I slapped his hand away, only to have him grab me again. I was too tired to care at this point though. "… I'm leaving as soon as I wake up."

"Fine by me."

God, I could tell how much we were going to hate each other already.

"This place is huge," I muttered under my breath. Expecting him to actually own a huge house in London wasn't the first thing that came to my mind.

"Looks like not all Americans are as incompetent as you English think, right?" he grinned. Glaring at him, I scoffed and turned to the see the living room entryway. The room was humongous, and luckily, a large and comfortable couch was my designated bed for the night.

"Why did you drag me to your house?" I asked. "Rubbing it in my face or something?"

"No, but that's a bonus—Ouch!"

"You're sense of humor is weird," I growled, taking my hand back from smacking him upside the head.

"Are you a sadist or something! Don't smirk when you hit people, its creepy!"

"Was I smirking?"

"You are right now, sadist."

"My bad." I turned towards the living room again. I started to realize that I was a bit shy to actually stay at a place like this. "Is your brother coming home anytime soon?"

"He doesn't get back from practice until about noon tomorrow. Why?" He tossed me a blanket from the edge of the hallway, kicking the closet door closed with his foot. I caught the blanket, noticing it had a pattern of an American flag. I went to spread it out on the couch, seeing it also had an American Football on the front. I could already tell just how 'patriotic' this guy was.

"No reason…" I was honestly hoping to avoid seeing Matthew. I didn't want to make a bad impression with him, since I already was scrapping with his brother. "What's with this blanket anyways? It looks like you got it from an American Football game."

"American football? Don't you just mean football?" He tilted his head a bit; the stray hair from his cowlick leaned to the side as well. I tried to avoid laughing at it, thinking it was kind of… cute.

"That's what they call your so called 'football' here. Football here would be your 'soccer'."

"…Really?"

I slapped my forehead. How could anyone be less drunk than me, but this stupid? I shook my head at him. "Yes really." Looking around the living room, I noticed there were a lot of video game systems and games strewn in front of the flat screen TV. As if he could get any more stereotypical in my eyes… "I suppose I should thank you for letting me stay here." Catching his gaze again, another chill went down my spine. The cold stare he had earlier was on his face again, except it was even more intense. Before I could try and say anything to lighten the atmosphere, he'd already come face to face with me.

"So, does this mean you owe me?" he asked raising a brow.

"I-I suppose so…" My voice was timid. I tried to step away, but fell sitting down onto the couch behind me. I gulped and looked at his face again by mistake.

A grin played its way up his lips as he spoke. "I know how I want you to repay me."

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><p>Ahah... I don't like how this chapter came out either . I'm so mean to myself. It's longer though! And the jacket scene is cute in my opinion! By the way, thank you so much for the favorites of this story! ;o; And for the few that reveiwed, it meant a lot to me! I had this chapter written up before I published the first chapter by the way... The next chapter will take some time though! So please do watch out for it!<p> 


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